Today, I experienced a heartache unlike any other. I said goodbye to my sister for what may be the last time ever. My therapist tells me that we never know if it will be our last time seeing someone, but in this case, it’s different.

My sister has surgery on Wednesday. It’s the kind of surgery that is dangerous – life threatening for someone like her. Actually, the odds of her dying are greater than the odds of her living. However, if the doctors don’t operate, she will die a slow and painful death.

I have spent the last 6 weekends with her. I have laid in the hospital bed with her. I have laughed with her, cried with her, and reminisced with her. I have held her hand for hours. I have loved her.

Leaving her tonight was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her alive again. Tonight, she held my hand, crying, and told me that she promises to look after me and my daughter. I tried to reassure her that we would be fine, but I was crumbling on the inside. How will I ever truly be ok without my sister?

When I got in my car to drive home, I sobbed. I’m pretty sure I cried harder than I’ve ever cried in my life. My wrist burned, begging me to scratch it open. My body ached to feel that numbness. I wanted to take away all of the hurt, but I couldn’t. Instead, I placed my hand on my forearm and pressed up and down, the way my Thai instructor does. I tried to imagine all of the hurt being pushed out of my body. I thought about all of the people who help care for me, and the moments where I have felt taken care of. As I go into this difficult week, I am clinging to those moments; I am clinging to my support system.